Sectumsempra
by Lenari
Summary: A myriad of emotions ran across his face in a matter of seconds, too fast for Harry to identify them but enough for him to be surprised. Malfoy, the one who he’d always considered strong and ice cold, was becoming human, truly human, right before his eyes
1. Trick on the mind, strike to the heart

Disclaimer: No characters you recognize are owned by me. They're J.K. Rowling's. This is just what I think could've happened in the situation presented in the chapter 24 of Book 6, from which this title was taken. Which means J.K. owns the scene and some of the wording, and all I own is the twists.

Rating: R

Summary: A myriad of emotions ran across his face in a matter of seconds, too fast for Harry to identify them but enough for him to be surprised. Malfoy, the one who he'd always considered strong and ice cold, was becoming human, truly human, right before his eyes. My take on the famous bathroom scene from HBP. Contains spoilers.

A/N: This is what happens when I spend hours reading Rhysenn's dissection of HBP over and over and end up sucked into this particular passage of the book. There'll be some slash undertones here, and more in the next chapter. You have been warmed.

Sectumsempra 

By Lenari Ryan

Chapter one: Trick on the mind, strike to the heart

Harry pressed his ear against the bathroom door anxiously, expecting to hear Moaning Myrtle begging for mercy. He found himself hearing nothing instead, and with a last look over his shoulder to make sure Filch wasn't around, he pushed the door open very quietly and peeked in, curiosity getting the best of him. The sight that greeted him was nothing like he'd expected, yet it was no less disturbing.

Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink tightly as he deposited his weight on it, his white-blond hair falling in his eyes due to his bowed head.

"Don't," crooned Moaning Myrtle somewhere nearby. "Don't. Tell me what's wrong… I can help you."

"No one can help me," he replied in a monotone, the effort to keep emotion from creeping into his voice very apparent even as his entire body shook. He began speaking again, his voice unsteady. "I can't do it. I can't. It won't work, and unless I do it soon… he says he'll kill me." He whispered the last few words, bowing his head lower, and Harry realized with shock that Malfoy was crying, actually crying, tears streaming rapidly down his thin pale face straight into the grimy basin. He gasped and gulped, trying to control his emotions, and shuddered as he forced himself to look up at his reflection in the cracked mirror. The raw emotion visible in his face froze as his reflection's eyes connected with Harry's green ones, which were posed in a spot over his shoulder.

He wheeled around, drawing his wand in sudden panic as he rearranged his features into cool emptiness. Before he could jinx him, Harry spoke. "What is it you can't do?"

"There's nothing I can't do," he spat defensively, his eyes returning to the detached silver color Harry had come to know so well.

Beneath the proud façade he could see that Malfoy was faltering, and he tried to exploit it to his advantage. "There is something you can't do, something you're being forced to do, and it's tearing you apart."

"No, it's not!" he replied indignantly. "I am perfectly fine, and absolutely capable of doing what I must do. What I _will_ do," he corrected, trying to erase any shreds of weakness from his self.

It was obvious that Malfoy was having problems believing that himself, and Harry surprised himself with his next words. "You can tell me," he coaxed, much like Myrtle had. "I can help. Or I can get Snape to help you."

Malfoy suddenly drew himself to his full height, his arrogance firmly in place. "I don't need help from either of you!" he snarled. "Stop acting like you care, Potter!"

"How can I, when I do care?" Harry replied in strangled voice, and Malfoy shook his head.

"You don't! You never have, you never will, and I don't give a bloody hell if you do!"

"Liar," Harry replied quietly, without knowing why, and Malfoy's face changed completely. A myriad of emotions ran across his face in a matter of seconds, too fast for Harry to identify them but enough for him to be surprised. Malfoy, the one who he'd always considered strong and ice cold, was becoming human, truly human, right before his eyes. His shock must've been written on his face, for Malfoy's features hardened again, and Harry drew his own wand instinctively as Malfoy's hex missed him by inches, shattering the nearest lamp on the wall. Harry flung himself to the side and flicked his wand as he tried to cast 'Levicorpus' without speaking, but he blocked the jinx with ease and raised his wand to retaliate.

"No! No! Stop it!" squealed Moaning Myrtle in fright. "Stop! Stop!"

A loud bang interrupted her squeals as a bin behind Harry exploded, and he attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that passed Malfoy's ear and bounced from the wall behind him, smashing the cistern Moaning Myrtle was on. Myrtle screamed, moving away from the water that was pouring out into the floor and making Harry slip. Malfoy contorted his face in concentration and cried "Cruci-"

Harry didn't let him finish, and, in panic, he bellowed "Sectumsempra!" and waved his wand wildly. Malfoy staggered backward and collapsed onto the wet floor with a loud splash, blood spurting from his face and chest as his wand fell from his limp hand. The sight of him on the floor covered in his own blood chilled Harry. "No," he gasped, horrified, and he staggered to Malfoy's side. His eyes roamed over Malfoy's scarlet-stained face, down to the pallid hands that scrabbled over the blood-soaked chest. "No… I didn't…" He didn't even know what he was saying, and he remained glued to the spot, looking at him helplessly. "Oh, _Draco_." The whispered exclamation passed his lips impulsively, and he fell to his knees next to him. Malfoy was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood, his gray eyes looking at him with an unidentifiable expression. Harry continued shaking his head in denial, murmuring apologies over and over again.

The scene made Moaning Myrtle scream. "Murder! Murder in the bathroom! _Murder_!"

The door opened almost instantly, and Harry watched in horror as Snape walked in. Looking livid, he pushed Harry away from Malfoy roughly and knelt over him, tracing the wounds with his wand as he frantically chanted an incantation. Harry watched as if in a trance, horrified what he had done and not noticing that his robes were also soaked with blood and water. Snape helped Malfoy sit, ignoring Moaning Myrtle's wailing and speaking in an almost fond tone. "You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany we might avoid even that. Come…" He supported him across the bathroom, and was about to leave when he turned to Harry and spoke, his gentle tone exchanged for one of complete fury. "And you, Potter… You wait here for me."

Snape exited, and Harry stood up slowly, trembling completely. He looked around him, staring at the blood that was spiraling in the water, and clenched his eyelids shut. He felt ashamed of himself for attacking Malfoy so fiercely when he'd been so broken… forgetting that Malfoy had been about to perform the Cruciatus Curse on him. All he could think of was that he'd almost let Malfoy bleed to death. Because of wounds that he'd carelessly inflicted.

"This is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who's been so nasty to you. Whose father is a Death Eater and delivered Ginny to be used by Voldemort. This is Malfoy and you hate him," he tried to remind himself, repeating it over and over like a prayer, but he knew that something had changed. He didn't hate Malfoy and he probably never had. He was obsessed, plain and simple, and there were more reasons for it than just the one he'd used to justify his actions in the eyes of Ron and Hermione.

His heart wrenched as his mind filled with images of Malfoy lying on the floor, swathed in his own blood, and he hung his head, waiting for Snape to return and punish him. He'd hurt someone, badly, and he wasn't going to allow himself to go away and pretend nothing had happened and that it didn't matter to him. Because it did matter. And because if he paid for it, maybe he'd be able to forgive himself. Maybe.

A/N: All these words flowed out and refused to leave me alone until I finished, so here it is. It sounded better in my head, but it's not too shabby, in my opinion. So please, let me know what you think.


	2. Behind the mask, into the soul

A/N: I wasn't going to write any more for this ficlet since I got flamed by obi Kenobi for it being 'copied right out of the book' (when I clearly warned that it was _my _take on it, meaning it was my thoughts of what could've happened flowing along with canon), but then I got three awesome reviews, one of them by the incredible CompleteGeek who I am a total fan of, and I decided to write another short bit. This is dedicated with much love to CompleteGeek, ATadObsessive46, and ReadorDie214.

Chapter two: Behind the mask, into the soul

Harry played with his quill idly, trying to erase last night from his mind, but everything he saw reminded him of it. He'd barely slept, since every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Malfoy drenched in his own blood, lying on the floor looking terrified and surprised at the same time. Snape had returned, but that hadn't been half as bad as he wished it'd been. Guilt was washing over him, and he wanted desperately to see Draco and atone for his sin.

Draco. Funny how he'd never called the other boy that until last night. In a moment of desperation, of horror, all he'd thought about was that. His name. He wasn't Malfoy the Slytherin Prince. He was Draco, a boy who was the same age as him. A boy who was confused, terrified, and proud. And since his brief glimpse into Draco's actual humanity, he couldn't reconcile that image with the image that he'd formed in his mind over the last five years.

He'd convinced himself that he hated that boy. He'd acted like that boy was his rival. But he didn't, and he wasn't. His true rival was Voldemort, and he couldn't hate Draco. He'd tried. God, he'd tried. He was a prat, a git, an idiot, but he couldn't hate him. And last night, he'd seen why. Because regardless of all that had happened between them, somehow Harry had always known Draco was just that. Draco. Human.

He threw his quill to the floor, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. Hermione looked up from her book, and leaned forward, speaking quietly. "If you want to see him, just go."

Ron looked at Hermione as if she were crazy, summoning the quill back to the table. "Come on, Hermione. Why would he want to go see Malfoy?"

"Draco," Harry corrected automatically, and Ron's expression transformed. Hermione was the one to speak, however.

"He's not going to be able to put it behind him if he doesn't apologize and make sure he's alright. So he should just go and get it over with."

"But _why_?" Ron asked in horror.

"I don't understand it any more than you do, Ron, and I don't think Harry does either. But I do know that much is true."

Harry nodded absently, staring at his parchment. One word stared back at him, its black ink contrasting starkly with its surroundings. His eyes were glued on it, gazing until his eyes watered and he couldn't read it anymore. He tore off that bit of parchment, folded it neatly, and dropped it in his pocket, next to his wand. Rising slowly, he left the common room, ignoring Ron's protests and Hermione's half-hearted attempts to calm him down.

The way to the Hospital Wing went by slowly, his mind lingering on everything he'd already thought about. What happened, what could've happened, what didn't happen. He arrived later than he'd thought, but sooner than he'd wished, so he just stood outside, staring at the door, wondering whether he should open it or not. He was about to turn around and leave when Madam Pomfrey opened the door.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," she greeted Harry, eyeing him warily. "What'd you do now?"

"Nothing, ma'am. I'm quite alright. I was just wondering how Draco Malfoy was doing."

Her demeanor changed immediately. "A visitor for Mr. Malfoy, how lovely! I'd been hoping someone would come see him for hours! Dreadful, really what happened to him," she commented, ushering Harry in. "Alas, it was done, but he is much better now. Run along, he's in right over there."

Harry went in the direction she'd pointed in, and froze as the bed came in sight. Draco lay there, looking paler than ever, his previously unblemished skin marked with a web of pinkish streaks that had the look of newly healed skin. Cool gray eyes settled on him. "Have you come to finish what you've started?" he drawled in an emotionless tone.

Harry shook his head. "Not at all, I…"

"Then you're here to feel better about yourself. What do you want me to tell you? What'll heal your conscience and help you sleep at night?" he asked sardonically.

Harry sat on the chair by the bed, swallowing hard. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm here because I couldn't live with myself if I didn't find out what I actually did to you." Triumph shone briefly in Draco's eyes before he resumed his wary expression. "But there's another reason for me to be here… I wanted to make sure you were okay. Not because _I_ did this to you, but because it was done to _you_." The words were out before Harry could stop himself, and Draco stared back at him blankly.

"What are you playing at, Potter?"

"Nothing. That's my point; I tried to help you yesterday and look how it ended..."

Draco interrupted him again. "Then stop trying to help me."

Harry's voice was strained as he spoke. "That's just it. I can't. I wish I could, but I can't."

"If you want to do it, then you can do it," he replied in exasperation.

"You just sounded like you were giving me a pep talk," Harry commented, trying to pull himself together.

"Well, I'm not," Draco snapped. "If you came here to see how I was, then you've seen I'm fine. Now leave, why don't you, and get the hell out of my life."

Harry shook his head, feeling inexplicably bold. "It's not that easy."

Draco chuckled darkly. "You'd be shocked at how easy it is to walk out on someone."

"Would you know?" Harry asked, and Draco smiled humorlessly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I would, Potter. You should know as well; you're one of those who've walked out on me. Unlike others, you didn't even give me a chance."

Harry was shocked that Draco even remembered, but what really got to him was the sincerity that, for the first time, he'd heard in Draco's voice. Impulsively, he pulled Draco's arm to him, lifting the sleeve to inspect his forearm. Upon finding it bare, and realizing that Draco had made no effort to retrieve his arm, he looked up again. "You're right," he said, releasing Draco's arm and he leaned back again. "It seems I was wrong with my assessment of you as well. You may be a proud bastard, and your pride was one of the reasons you ended up in here, but you're no Death Eater."

"I will be," Draco replied harshly, ashamed of himself for showing emotion before, and for feeling _something_ when Potter had touched him with such a delicacy that it had almost bordered on tenderness. "After I do what I'm supposed to do, I'll have that honor."

Harry scoffed in a very Slytherin manner. "Honor? Please. Not even you believe that crap. It is not belief or honor that compels you to join them; it is cowardice and fear."

"You've no idea what you're talking about," was the heated reply, as gray eyes narrowed.

"Don't I? Let me see… if you don't join him, you'll either die outright or be tortured and die. Your family will be disgraced in Voldemort's eyes, and they'll quite probably follow your path into death. And if Voldemort let you live… the Slytherins would hate you, your father would disown you, and you would have _no one_ by you side."

"Be quiet," Draco whispered weakly, averting his gaze, and Harry could see that he was trembling slightly.

"Why should I? Because you don't like hearing the truth? Because you can't conceive that someone actually cares? Well guess what, Draco. _I_ care, and you'd better start listening and doing things right."

He turned back to Harry, shocked that he'd dare call him by his name, and was struck by the raw honesty in his eyes and words. "Why would you care?" he asked quietly, cursing inwardly as he realized he'd spoken aloud.

Harry shrugged, but his voice was anguished as he spoke. "Because I do. I can't explain it, but I do, and I think I always have."

"You're my enemy," Draco replied tonelessly. "You _can't_ care about me. I can't let you."

Harry leaned forward, locking his green gaze into Draco's gray one. "Why? I'm not really your enemy, Draco. Are you afraid that you'll care about me, too?"

Draco froze, breathing shallowly, and the word was out before he could stop himself. "Yes."

"That's what I thought. And don't be… there's still a chance that you and I'll get along someday," Harry replied, unsure of what he should've answered.

He didn't think about his reply this time. He'd already screwed up, things had gone straight to hell, his mask was down, and he might as well be honest. "Maybe we already get along. Maybe we're pretending because we think we should."

Harry nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Maybe you're right."

His walls and masks forgotten, Draco looked at Harry with the same unidentifiable expression as before. "So, what do we do now? Pretend in public and speak in secret?"

Harry shrugged again. "I really don't know. That seems like the logical choice, but…"

"But now that we know we're not imagining this, pretending isn't going to be quite as easy," Draco finished for him.

"What _is_ this, anyway?"

"I don't know, but I wish it'd go away," was the bitter reply.

"Sometimes I wish that, too. But sometimes, only sometimes, I'm glad it's here." Draco frowned, and Harry explained himself. "It's real, and it's strong, and, even if I don't know what the hell it is, I know that I'd rather have it than be without."

"Why are you always right?" Draco asked in exasperation.

"Beats me. Why are you always wrong?"

"Because you mock me," he replied in annoyance, but Harry could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're easy to mock," Harry replied simply. He'd gotten up to leave, not wanting to say anything that'd ruin the ease between them, when an impulse struck him and he squeezed Draco's hand in farewell. Through his shock, Draco squeezed back, and they smiled at each other in unspoken agreement before Harry departed.

A/N: This has taken a completely new direction, and I, for one, am loving it. I'm thinking of adding another chapter, sort of an epilogue, to tell of what happens in public after this little heart-to-heart. If anyone's interested, please let me know.


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